


I Never Cared for Hazel Eyes

by 003chan (positively_dashed)



Category: Biggles Series - W. E. Johns
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positively_dashed/pseuds/003chan
Summary: It’s Algy’s birthday, and Biggles might have dug a pit for himself with the present. Ginger just wants a piece of the cake.James-rated, mostly because of the epilogue.
Relationships: James "Biggles" Bigglesworth/Algy Lacey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after the Black Peril. Algy still has his Baker Street flat. Ginger is still a little confused about things, but he’s learning. Perhaps more than he should. As Brooklands seem quite far to commute to every day, Ginger is staying with the Smyths’, who live near there, over the week.
> 
> Many thanks to the inimitable id_ten_it for beta, a number of helpful suggestions, and for making me write this in the first place.

Ginger closed the door behind him, happy to be out of the cold wind that had tried to blow his cap off the whole journey from the station. He was quite late coming back from Brooklands this week. The first thing he noticed once inside was the sweet buttery aroma emanating from the kitchen. Not an uncommon occurrence, but one certainly worth investigating, he decided. Led mostly by his nose and a strong craving for hot tea and whatever Mrs Symes was baking, he headed off into the housekeepers’ domain. 

“Good evening?” he called, looking around for the source of delicious smells.

“Oh, hello! I was starting to wonder where you were. Was the traffic bad?” their housekeeper turned to him from the oven into which she had been peering.

“No, it was alright. I stayed late to help Mr Smyth with something.”

“The weather is awful. Go wash your hands and sit down, you must be hungry.”

Ginger smiled, took off his coat, and carried out what he had been told to do. Eating in the kitchen was something he had very much enjoyed doing since coming to live with Biggles. He often returned at odd times, so for Biggles to wait up for him with dinner wouldn’t be very practical. Besides, he had grown to like Mrs Symes very much and spending time here with her felt … a bit more like home. Being close to the main source of food also counted for a lot in his book.

“What are you baking, Mrs Symes?”

“Why, a cake.”

“Can I have a piece?”

“No!”

Ginger’s face fell. Mrs Symes had never denied him food yet, more to the contrary. She looked at him and laughed heartily.

“Oh, look at you, pouting like that. It’s for Mr Lacey.”

“How come Algy gets a cake and I don’t?”

“It’s his birthday tomorrow, that’s why. He’ll be coming over, or so I’ve been told. I’m sure you’ll get a piece or two tomorrow.”

“It’s Algy’s birthday? Really? Oh… I didn't...” It was too late to go out for a present, even if he had any idea what to get with the little pocket money he had from Biggles. Algy seemed to have everything. And it was Saturday tomorrow. Ginger propped his chin on his palm, frowning at the table.

Mrs Symes improved his outlook by putting a plate with his dinner in front of him, and then busied herself with the oven. A little while later there came a sound of light footsteps on the stairs. “Mrs Symes, is Ginger back yet?”

“I’m here!”

“Good.” Biggles could be heard going back up.

Ginger finished his meal and gave a longing look to the beautiful golden cake now cooling on a wire rack. With words of thanks he grabbed his things and took the stairs two at a time to the main flat. He found Biggles reading by the fireplace. 

Biggles lifted his eyes upon Ginger’s entrance, nodded at him in greeting and would have returned to his book but for Ginger’s quiet, “Biggles?” 

“Yes?”

“Mrs Symes said it’s Algy’s birthday tomorrow…”

“So it is,” Biggles smiled.

“Should we… get him a present? It’s just that I didn’t know...”

“I already have one, so no worries on that front, laddie. It can be from both of us.”

“Alright...”

***


	2. Chapter 2

“Hullo, hullo, and good afternoon!”

“Just in time for tea. You’re reliable, that’s what I always liked about you, Algy,” quipped Biggles.

Algy made a face at him. “Where’s the tea, then?” 

Ginger tried to take his cue as to how the situation was to progress from Biggles, not wanting to spoil any kind of surprise he might have prepared. However, so far it looked just like any other weekend afternoon at the Mount Street flat.

Algy winked at him. “Hi, Ginger. Has Smyth been cracking the whip much this week?”

They talked a little about Ginger’s week at the workshop, which again was nothing out of the ordinary. Mrs Symes came in with a tea tray. Everything just as usual. But there was no cake… Ginger started to wonder whether he misunderstood. He looked around, his eyes sliding from one occupant of the room to the next curiously. Algy was making himself comfortable in an armchair by the fireplace, which for all intents and purposes was considered his, while Mrs Symes served him tea. He didn’t seem to notice Ginger staring. Mrs Symes wasn’t looking at him either, occupied with the teapot and cups as she was. 

Biggles himself - in response to Ginger’s questioning look - just smiled in that peculiar manner he had. Ginger shrugged at him helplessly and Biggles yielded. He leaned in. “There’s a wrapped box on the linen cupboard next to the door to my room. Bring it and wait for Mrs Symes outside," he whispered. 

Ginger shot out of the door just as Algy was opening with a story about something his sister’s friend had done that was sure to get her onto the society page of the Sunday paper.

He had a mission to accomplish. The box was exactly where Biggles told him it would be. He picked it up... gingerly. He looked it over. It was bigger than he expected, meticulously wrapped, and had a nice bow on top and everything. It didn’t seem too heavy for its dimensions. What could it be?

He headed back and was just in time to meet Mrs Symes returning from downstairs with the cake on her tray. She grinned conspiratorially, pushed the door open with her shoulder and peeked inside. "Special delivery for Mr Lacey!"

Algy stood up and turned to the door with an expression of amused surprise™.

Biggles stepped forth promptly, “Happy birthday, old boy!” and shook Algy’s hand. Algy burst out laughing.

“Happy birthday, Mr Lacey,” rejoined Mrs Symes. She set the cake on the coffee table and pressed Algy’s hand warmly. Then she hesitated, stood on tiptoe and planted a brief kiss on his cheek, “Many happy returns.”

“Thanks so much, Mrs S.”

Biggles beckoned to Ginger, who until then stood watching the situation from the door in wonder, holding the present in front of him like a shield. “Happy birthday, Algy.”

“Thanks, laddie,” Algy squeezed his shoulder lightly and took the box from him. He glanced at Biggles and smiled. 

The cake was cut into nice thick slabs, and eaten, but Ginger would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t near vibrating out of his skin with curiosity about the yet unopened present resting by Algy’s side. 

Not until Mrs Symes made her exit with the used dishes did Algy finally take up the box.

“It seems I’ve been good,” he remarked, looking the box over not unlike Ginger had done earlier.

“That is debatable,” noted Biggles archly.

Algy, grinning, lifted the box up and seemed to be about to shake it.

“Better not shake it… too much…” cautioned Biggles.

“Oh… is that some new china?”

“Yes, replacements for all the cups and saucers you’ve ever broken here.”

“Wait… that’s like... one! And that wasn’t even my fault!” cried Algy.

Biggles was smirking. 

Algy lay the box on the sofa and started unwrapping it carefully, and much too slowly for Ginger’s liking. A plain box emerged from under the wrapping paper. The flaps opened, Algy peeked inside. Ginger tried looking over his shoulder, perhaps more curious than the recipient himself. There was something dark and vaguely boxy-looking inside.

Algy gasped theatrically, “Could it be… could it be?” He reached inside the box and pulled out a flat dark case by a handle. Ginger nearly blurted out _‘What is it?’_ because Algy obviously already knew. He wouldn’t be so slow opening it otherwise, would he?

Algy wiggled on the sofa, looking quite delighted. He put the case on his lap and finally opened it. And there on a bed of velvet rested a ...

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s in the box? Whoever guesses it gets... a piece of that cake?


	3. Chapter 3

… a ukulele. 

Algy lifted the small instrument out of its bedding and ran a hand down the neck appreciatively. “I have been good alright…”

Ginger wasn’t quite sure where one could buy such instruments, or how much they cost, but this one certainly did not look as if Biggles just grabbed it off the rack. For one, he noticed Algy’s initials on the top, in what seemed to be mother-of-pearl lettering. On the neck in random intervals there were little birds made of the same material, and some kind of a pattern around the round hole in the middle. 

Algy seemed positively ecstatic, “Thank you, it’s beautiful!” Completely absorbed he gave the strings a few strokes and started tinkering with the pegs up top.

“How do you know how to play it right away?” Ginger couldn’t help asking.

Algy glanced at him and Ginger suddenly felt a little self-conscious. But Algy smiled.

“I don’t. I learned it once upon a time. It’s been some time since I played, though. I lost my last uke to the destructive tendencies of Ossie, one of my nephews. My sister made me teach him, and he snapped the neck. The little sod that he is! To this day I’m not quite sure how he managed it. Dear sister hasn't deigned to replace it since.” He strummed his finger down the strings slowly. “This one is much better though,” Algy smiled radiantly at Biggles.

“I thought you liked your sister. You said she was nice,” ventured Ginger.

“This was the other one,” stated Algy cheerfully, “the scary one.” 

“Stop traumatizing him with your family affairs, Algy,” mocked Biggles, sipping his tea.

Algy then decided to forestall any further discussion on that particular topic by launching directly into a tune, soon adding his voice to it.

_Now I go window cleaning to earn an honest bob  
For a nosy parker it's an interesting job_

Biggles turned his eyes heavenward.

Ginger looked on with astonishment at first, and when the lyrics registered he started to snicker, and by the fourth verse laughed outright. He glanced at Biggles who was hiding his face in his hands and murmuring, “What have I done…” But Ginger could see him chuckling anyway.

“Can Algy play anything?” enquired Ginger quietly when Biggles emerged from his dramatic pose. There was an upright piano in Biggles' living room but Ginger had never seen him play it. He wasn't sure Biggles even knew how. Only Algy ever played it, when he came over.

“He can’t play the violin, I’m quite sure. And thank heavens for that.”

Ginger chuckled. Algy still looked quite engrossed in his present and was ignoring them. 

“He actually studied at a conservatoire at one time,” Biggles murmured near absentmindedly with his eyes on Algy.

“What’s that?”

“Something along the lines of a music school.”

“Algy was at a _music school_?” Ginger cried aghast.

“He was indeed. Didn’t finish his degree, because he’s a lazy cuss, but I suppose he does have some innate talent. Seeing him now, he could have made a career playing the most notorious dives in the city, instead of just frequenting them…”

“I’ll give you a dive! A steep one,” laughed Algy, who was obviously not so engrossed not to hear them talking. He looked up at Biggles, challenge in his eyes. The random chords suddenly became a prelude to a song.

_Love, love, love, love,  
Look what you've done to me!_

Biggles took a sharp breath as if to say something and stood up.

_The things I never missed,  
Are things I can't resist!_

That was the first time that Ginger ever saw Biggles flush red.

_Love love love love  
Isn't it plain to see?  
I just had a change of heart  
What can it be?_

He did not give it any more attention at that moment...

_She's got eyes of blue  
I never cared for eyes of blue  
But she's got eyes of blue  
And that's my weakness now  
She's got dimpled cheeks  
I never cared for dimpled cheeks  
But she's got dimpled cheeks  
And that's my weakness now_

… being instead very interested in Algy’s cheerful impromptu performance.

_Oh, my! Oh, me!  
Oh, I should be good, I would be good,  
But, gee!_

Yet, the sight lodged in his mind for it being so unusual. It had become one of the many pieces of a mosaic soon to be uncovered.

_She likes to bill and coo  
I never liked to bill and coo  
But she likes to bill and coo  
That's my weakness now_

After that verse Algy, himself watching Biggles’ expression, couldn’t continue playing for laughing too much.

“Ginger, could you run down for another pot of tea? I think we’ve put Mrs Symes through enough today. No need to subject her to this,” put in Biggles tersely.

“Sure thing, chief,” agreed Ginger, a little puzzled by Biggles’ tone. If anything, he would expect the first song would be the one to warrant that kind of reaction. Unless he was missing something…

~*~

As soon as the lad’s steps could be heard going down the stairs, Algy began another verse, sotto voce.

_He's got hazel eyes  
I never cared for hazel eyes  
But he's got hazel eyes  
And that's my weakness now_

“Algy!”

“Judging by your expression you did remember,” Algy snickered. “I can give a repeat performance of the special version in full at the earliest convenience. You know how wonderfully versatile the verse pattern of this song is.”

“Embarrass me in front of the kid, why don't you! Sometimes I wonder if you made trying to fluster me the sole point of your ambition.”

“Not the sole point, I don’t think… One of many, perhaps. You should at least try not to be awful when I’m serenading you. How about a kiss for the birthday boy?”

“You’re a menace,” Biggles dropped on the sofa next to Algy resignedly, but did fulfill the wish.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have moved the release of _When I’m Cleaning Windows_ a year or two forward, but… artistic license? The whole idea started with it, so I wanted to keep it. I suppose they would have known Ukulele Ike even though he was an American. The song was pretty widely covered, anyway. Algy’s version of _That’s My Weakness Now_ is somewhere between Ukulele Ike’s and Helen Kane’s I would think :)) He probably got very creative with his own lyrics, though.  
> For the full experience, do give those songs a try if you don’t know them :) YT is your friend.  
> 


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now to the James-rated epilogue. Mrs Symes is the best housekeeper, she is also an enabler.

Mrs Symes cleared the table after they had put away another chunk of the cake as an after-dinner dessert. 

“The weather really has been frightful these last few days. Shall I prepare the guest room for you Mr Lacey?”

Algy crossed to the window and looked out. “I think you might as well, Mrs S. Thank you. No need to dampen the spirit of the day by getting wet to the bone if I can help it. I wouldn’t be able to take the uke with me either. I’m not taking it out in this weather for anything.”

~*~

“Do I get any more presents?”

“Such as? What would you like?”

“You, out of your kit, for instance.”

“...” 

There wasn’t much light in the room, but Algy thought he could see James’ cheeks colouring for the second time that day.

“That could be arranged,” James then observed a little huskily. 

Algy decided to press a little more, “A big red bow is optional. I could find some uses for it, though.”

“Don’t overdo it.” James turned away from him and slipped his robe down his shoulders.

“Wait!”

James stopped with his fingers on the first button of his shirt.

“I’d like to unpack the present myself...”


End file.
